Dust
by winlark
Summary: In old myths, it was said that fairies were forever attracted to what shone the brightest, believing it to hold the greatest worth. In that moment Killian Jones was a beacon, and I couldn't exactly say no to the siren song he sang.
1. Prologue

My ancestors are the dust particles this island was built upon. They gave their bones to the structure of the mountains, their very souls to the beaches, so that our kind might escape the prophecy of curses to be set upon our land. This place was built as the perfect refugee, the exact balance a fairy needs for survival. Under the right circumstances, we can live for thousands of years, never aging until the day we are reduced to a pile of dust. Under the wrong ones, we will die in a matter of days. Once upon a time, that was our greatest defense, but that defense is gone now. The Dark One learned to turn our magic against us, to sustain our life long enough to harvest the dust that leaks from our veins.

One month ago, I was the last free fairy in existence.

Today I lay on my deathbed.


	2. Hook

One month ago.

The first thing you should know about fairies is that we do not bleed. We cannot, for we are dust. Our only mass is that of our outer shell, the skin we choose to wear in order to appear to be corporal. If you were to see a fairy without his or her skin, you would simply see particles that vaguely resemble the outline of a humanoid creature, buzzing about space.

The second thing you should know about fairies is that, unless you can see past glamors, we appear the same as any human being. If it was not so detrimental to our health, we could walk among human kind, virtually unnoticed. In the years where my ancestors lured Pan here to become our forever guardian, we did walk among humanity, if only for a short while. The toll from the expedition however, was the lives of many, a sobering blow. I had not yet been born when this occurred, but Pan often told me stories of how it was my great grandmother who lured him out as a child and whisked him away to the strange yet alluring Neverland.

"Tink." Pan called, softly and sweetly into the darkness where I was hiding. "Tink, someone's crashed into Neverland, I'ma go have a look, wanna come?" His golden hair was damp with morning dew, leaving me to believe he had spent the night outside yet again. I rolled my eyes.

"If I say no, you're going to find a way to drag me along anyways, so why bother even asking anymore?"

Pan looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do have a well point there."

"I think you mean good." I corrected him.

"I think I mean well. I'm Peter, Peter Pan of the Neverlands! Grammar can bow before me and eat the dirt from between my toes!"

In order to save the painstaking task of watching his lips move in rapid fashion while he spewed words he thought sounded right, I grabbed hold of his arms, dug into his memory, and fell. The sensation lasted only moments, in which my true form rose to the top, cutting through time as space as if neither existed. For me of course, they did not. To dust everything is but an illusion, as we are the particles that build, the particles that bind. We are magic, the core that connects the elements, neither tainted nor pure, yet all knowing of the world and the treasures it holds.

We both landed light on our feet, a stunt no ordinary human could have pulled off, even with the years of experience Pan had being whisked through time. The beach we had shifted to stood before us like a stage where two men, one dressed in fine leather, the other wearing an odd red hat and mismatched sailors garb, stood looking around as if they had never seen anything like it.  
I expected to feel weak. Even though it was only the two of them standing in the sand that glittered a pale violet in the sun, I could feel that there were more. An entire crew more. But instead I felt oddly strong, almost empowered by their very presence.

"Pirates." I breathed, the realization crossing me.

"Yes." Pan answered. "And we're going to join them!"

"Pan!" I hissed, even though it was far too late. The men had spotted us, and Pan was running up to greet them, most like an overly affectionate lap dog. Only then did I realize the man in leather was missing a hand, it replaced by a solid silver hook. I froze for a moment, staring in awe as he neared. I could smell the freshness of the now healed wound, but he maneuvered the hook as if it was a natural extension of his body.

"Greetings!" The man with the hook called out, his voice crisp, with an accent that sounded close to Pan's, but I could not recall hearing before.

"Pirates, you're pirates! Ah this is a brilliant sort of adventure! I've ever wanted to meet myself a pirate!" Pan cheered as he neared the men.

"That we are. Captain Killian Jones, and you might be?"

"Peter Pan, you might call me by either name, protector of the Nerverlands."

The Captain nearly doubled over as he laughed. The man with the brightly colored hat just eyed him, almost if he was unsure if he should be laughing or not. "Beg my pardon, but you're just a wee boy! Protector of the Neverlands? Ha! Now be a good child, call your girl over, I'd like to get a good look at her. We mean you no harm, but we've come to take what we will, by force or other means. "

Fury rippled through me. I had never been good at channeling my emotions in a positive way, but the words he had chosen were an insult with sharper edges than a diamond sword. Instead of minding my manners like a good little fairy would have, I let myself go, appearing inches from the pirates. Killian eyed me with wonder, but the member of his crew gave a startled cry and fell backwards in the sand, only to scramble to his feet in a manner that could be best described as a pig who is about to meet his fate.

"Fascinating. I thought you were all captive. You are a fairy, no?" He gave me a wide smile, as if I was the most precious of jewels, set out for display. I could smell the sea seeping from his skin, mixed with a fair amount of brandy on his breath. Despite this he was quite handsome, with eyes to rival the deep sea. Though I had never met a man as such, I had heard stories about them, many of good stories, filled with adventures Pan often tried to re-create. I pushed that out of my head, along with the things I would probably do with such a man given the chance, and focused on my anger, how rude the comment he had so nonchalantly sputtered.

"I belong to no one!" I spat. "Not to Pan, not to the land, not to the sea. No one. And you will respect me."

"My apologies." He said, breaking eye contact and taking a step back. "Well, I'd hate to be rude, but I do have to say you are the most fascinating creature I have ever laid eyes on. Your hair..." He raised his hand, brushing a strand from my face. "Finer than gold. And your curves.." Killians eyes trailed my body. "Oh such a fine body to be wasted on a boy."

I slapped him, hard across the face, my own growing red. "A drunk's comments are of no worth to a fairy."

"Feisty! I quite like you!" The smirk still present.

I took several deep breaths, debating hitting him again. My hand had left a distinct red mark mark, on his left cheek, and it would be a shame if there wasn't a matching one for his right.

"Sir?" The man with the hat spoke up, finally seeming to have found his voice and taking my attention away from striking the captain a second time.

"What, Smee?" Killian barked.

"It's just...well I think we should leave them be. The fairy, she's a pretty thing-" He stopped eying me. "I mean no disrespect miss. Really, honestly. None. But you are very pretty. There isn't many woman- anyways, captain, I don't want to get into a fight over something so petty. Their island. Many more to be exploring, right?"

Killian rolled his eyes. "Honestly, do you have any backbone left? We came here to explore, and I'm not going to let a small child stand between meand what I came for. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes sir. Very well sir."

Without another word to Pan, Killian turned on his heels and strode back towards his small rowboat, Smee in tow. Only once he was pushing off, headed back for his ship that loomed far out in the cove did he call back to me. "You're welcome aboard any time you decide you want a real man, my dear fairy!"

"I'm going to kill him Tink." Pan whispered, as if they could still hear him. "If he sets one more boot on the Neverlands, I'll rip his head from his body, I swear."

Nodding absentmindedly, I cocked my head, watching them disappear. He may have been a rude man, but he was here for a reason, a reason I had no inkling of. In old myths, it was said that fairies were forever attracted to what shone the brightest, believing it to hold the greatest worth. In that moment Killian Jones was a beacon, and I couldn't exactly say no to the siren song he sang.


	3. Ship

A fairy has no allegiance to anyone but themselves, unless they are bound by iron. Much like killing a unicorn, binding a fairy has consequences that are least desirable. For a fairy bound is a fairy's wrath: an everlasting curse on the binder's happiness should he ever use the fairy for power; an everlasting curse on the binder's luck should he ever use the fairy for greed; an everlasting curse on the binder's soul should he ever use the fairy for deception; Should he lust after all three, life nor death shall be punishment enough, so he shall wander, a lost man, never to be seen, never to be heard, never to be found for eternity.

In truth however, there is no price high enough for being bound. It comes with pain of the most unimaginable degree; for when iron touches a fairy, poisons his or her blood, it does not just burn; it scars. Where iron has touched will never heal, and will scald and tear until the fairy's last light flickers out. There are few cures, except pure belief, able to heal a fairy of such atrocities, and many good creatures have perished from less than an ounce of iron, so it always of a fairy's greatest importance to check any unknown area for such a trap.

I hovered above the ship for only a moment to sense if any of its supporting beams had traces of iron. Most the crew seemed to have turned in for the night, but Killian stood upon the deck, looking out to the sea with such a ferocious yearning, I felt it best to land lightly on a mast, as if camouflaging myself better would somehow give him more privacy in what was a clearly an intimate moment shared only between beats of a heart.

Heart. Something about a heart. A woman.

"Milah." He whispered to the sea, the wind catching his words and delivering them to me. The pain in his chest radiated out, nearly knocking me off the mast and back into the ocean. I saw everything, how the dark one had taken her, this Milah, tore out her heart while it still beat and reduced it to charred ash while Killian could do nothing but watch in horror.

"You can come down, fairy." Killian called up after what seemed like an eternity of me swamping through his memory, or rather the one particular memory. "No need to hide!"

I was caught off guard, but by the playful tone in his voice, I expected he knew not of how long I had been sitting there, or what I then knew. No words passed my lips as I appeared several feet before him, my eyes focusing perhaps a bit too much on the way the moonlight illuminated his face and his leather pants clung to him just so.

"You really are fascinating. Though I don't think I caught your name, I'd hate to be rude to such a pretty thing."

"Tinkerbell." I said catching his eyes, and holding the contact as if I could stare into him, absorb him memories. And what memories such a man would have, I could only imagine. I let myself drift closer to him, wishing to know to more about him.

"Interesting. So may I ask why you're here?"

In an instant I had one hand on the front of his shirt, the other snaking behind his head running through his hair. I stood on my toes and leaned in, so that my lips just brushed his ear. "Because I want a man, not a boy, Killian."

He shivered, but otherwise kept his composure. "Well, I'm as much a man as any pirate can be, perhaps more. You're such a little thing though, hardly lost the face of a girl, yet you posses the curves of a woman, even though you are not such. Very peculiar. You look as though a lady might, I will not deny, but a fairy is a far cry from humans, are they not? "

"If that is case, are you a man at all? You belong to the sea as I belong to the elements, yet, if I am not mistaken, a man belongs to the earth, the soil, the very thing he seeks to destroy. And you want no part of that. None at all. So tell me Killian Jones, are you a man? Or do you align yourself with the second star you see and head straight on until morning?"

"Who says you were the second star?" He mused.

"There was a woman before me, I see her in your mind, dancing behind your eyelids, taunting you. Her ghost is worse than any wraith, any ghoul that has chased you throughout your homeland.

"Yes." He admitted between clenched teeth.

"Milah." I moved my hands to his face, letting them conform to his high cheek bones as the memories flew from his mind, taking a temporary residence in mine. "But there's more, you've lost before her...So much lost, and not in love either. you-"

But he pulled back before I could dig deeper, shaking his head with a grim look. "That's enough, Fairy."

"It's Tinkerbell." I shot back, my temper flaring.

"What I've lost is none of your business. So unless you've come to help me, I'd recommend you remove yourself from my vessel, lest you plan on becoming a part of it."

"No." I shot right back at him.

"You really want to test me?"

"You really think you have it in yourself to kill me? Please, I've seen lost boys with more drive to accomplish the deed." I let myself go ever so slightly, floating up into the air as if I was no more than a leaf. "So I suppose your quest starts tomorrow. I shall meet you on shore as the sun rises." I started to fall, letting myself tumble through space, but then a thought occurred to me, and I snapped myself back to the ship. "And don't be late. This island runs a very tight schedule, and I would hate to interrupt the scheduled killings, kidnappings and pillaging of the inhabitants. Sleep well, Killian."


End file.
